Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the home slice, like a lucky fish.
All I wish is that you this like a Swedish dish.
It's the L-A-R-S, H-O I-S...
and I represent CV, and yes I confess:
I'm 2003 and the snare drum pumps.
Back up, Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
it like Ritchie Valens,
and I'm up to fresh session,
yes I'm up to this challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and I'll
all the of green apathy
up the zone.
Because I'll analyze world,
I'll your head.
I'll readjust paradigm with this microphone.
I was chilling in my '88 on 101,
with the woofer in the bumping P.E. number one.
in a genre I didn't create,
props to Mel, Chuck D, and all eight
hundred thousand MC's on whose I stand.
I'm just a kid with a plastic jammie in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but often get off in a straight line.
Fine, time will tell he's headed.
It's up to chance, Gretel's path is breaded.
Your criticism? I'm above it! Your BS? Let's glove it!
Take heroin and shove it... life you've got to love it.
So get this, steal this, deal this, peel away,
I made this song out of my brain and clay.
It helped my brain for a week and a day,
one day it stopped working like the city of Pompeii.
But okay, hey, because I roll it home.
Knick knack whack, my sonic range his grown.
Profound Antoine De Saint Exuperey,
when I rock the chorus of this I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Part Swedish, Australian, full fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I scored on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll rock the CoHo 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I English and math and biology.

I piss off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it called '27th Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he ever try to rock the mike me?
And I'm weird Al, don't attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's Mike?
plays bass and I take wedding vows,
to my hip-hop rhymes that I'm now.
And I satisfy women GER's,
I advocate the of SUV cars.
I think Israel and should get along.
I sampled Nine Nails for this song.
And I'm so post-modern, I even exist.
Did you that P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
It's the twenty-first century, please,
you're killing hip-hop you sample the Bee Gees!
Most today rap about five things:
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
of grandeur in full swing,
fascist focus and diamond rings.
But if Martin Luther King alive today,
how he weigh the decay displayed?
Homogenized identities, betrayed,
there's more to rap than just paid.
And there's more to than MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and I sit in silence, my love for life increases.
It feels great to the plug on the family TV,
and my own niche in society.
And while I this beat, you're doing spoken word,
trying to get naked voice heard.
If I know ProTools, I'd be like you
and I could do spoken word if I wanted to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You might see me on the bumping Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
After my BA get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly John Donne's "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Rewriting Bronte like Wide Sea.